"Come on, man, this car is a classic. She's worth a small fortune back home." Rhys laid an almost loving hand against the hood of the white '68 GTO he'd recently won in a poker game. She was his current baby and he hated to part with her, but he needed the money more than he needed the wheels. Easy come, easy go. He was confident he'd find another. He wasn't quite so certain about other aspects of his life.
The middle-aged man standing beside him adjusted his glasses and looked skeptically at the car. "I don't know. If you can't find someone who wants to buy it, it's not worth much, is it?" "Are you kidding me?" Rhys exclaimed. "This car is one of a kind. She's in pristine condition. Rare enough on Earth. You're not gonna find another like her on Rhydin." "In case you haven't noticed," the other man pointed out, "people don't really drive cars much here." "Yeah, well..." Rhys stammered, "there's gotta be someone who'd like to buy her." "Where'd you get her?" the other man asked as he circled the car, taking a closer look. Rhys couldn't help but smirk a little at the question, or more accurately, at the answer to the question. "I won her in a poker game." The man shot a dubious look at Rhys from over the roof of the car. "Why not sell her back to the owner then?" Rhys snorted derisively. "Yeah, like that'll work. Pour a little salt in the wounds and get my ass kicked." The other man shrugged and pulled open the door to take a look inside. "Why you wanna sell her anyway?" That was a simple enough question and the answer seemed obvious enough. "I need the money," Rhys answered simply. The man pulled open the glove box, furrowing his brows at what he found there - a couple of candy bars, some condoms, and a .38 Special.
Rhys reached past him and shut the glove box. "I don't have all day, so what?ll it be?"
"What do you need the money for?" the man asked, curiously. "That's none of your damned business and neither is what?s in the glove box." "When's the last time you got laid, son?"
Too long ago, Rhys thought to himself, narrowing his eyes at the man and ignoring his question. "You interested or not?"
The man seemed to consider a moment before answering. "Let me ask around. I might be able to dig something up."
Rhys seemed to relax a little and nodded. "Okay, but I don't have much time." "You owe somebody money or something?" the man asked, curiously. It figured that if the guy was a gambler, he might have some serious debt problems. "No, it's just....It's important, okay?" Rhys climbed in behind the steering wheel and turned over the engine, which rumbled to life, like a cat purring or a woman in the throes of passion.
"I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do," the man told Rhys, shoving the driver's side door closed.
Rhys rolled down the window a fraction and looked up at the man. "That's all I'm asking. You know how to reach me."
"I'll be in touch," the man promised and watched as Rhys drove away. "They don't make cars like that anymore," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and going back inside to make a few calls to some prospective buyers.
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The middle-aged man standing beside him adjusted his glasses and looked skeptically at the car. "I don't know. If you can't find someone who wants to buy it, it's not worth much, is it?" "Are you kidding me?" Rhys exclaimed. "This car is one of a kind. She's in pristine condition. Rare enough on Earth. You're not gonna find another like her on Rhydin." "In case you haven't noticed," the other man pointed out, "people don't really drive cars much here." "Yeah, well..." Rhys stammered, "there's gotta be someone who'd like to buy her." "Where'd you get her?" the other man asked as he circled the car, taking a closer look. Rhys couldn't help but smirk a little at the question, or more accurately, at the answer to the question. "I won her in a poker game." The man shot a dubious look at Rhys from over the roof of the car. "Why not sell her back to the owner then?" Rhys snorted derisively. "Yeah, like that'll work. Pour a little salt in the wounds and get my ass kicked." The other man shrugged and pulled open the door to take a look inside. "Why you wanna sell her anyway?" That was a simple enough question and the answer seemed obvious enough. "I need the money," Rhys answered simply. The man pulled open the glove box, furrowing his brows at what he found there - a couple of candy bars, some condoms, and a .38 Special.
Rhys reached past him and shut the glove box. "I don't have all day, so what?ll it be?"
"What do you need the money for?" the man asked, curiously. "That's none of your damned business and neither is what?s in the glove box." "When's the last time you got laid, son?"
Too long ago, Rhys thought to himself, narrowing his eyes at the man and ignoring his question. "You interested or not?"
The man seemed to consider a moment before answering. "Let me ask around. I might be able to dig something up."
Rhys seemed to relax a little and nodded. "Okay, but I don't have much time." "You owe somebody money or something?" the man asked, curiously. It figured that if the guy was a gambler, he might have some serious debt problems. "No, it's just....It's important, okay?" Rhys climbed in behind the steering wheel and turned over the engine, which rumbled to life, like a cat purring or a woman in the throes of passion.
"I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do," the man told Rhys, shoving the driver's side door closed.
Rhys rolled down the window a fraction and looked up at the man. "That's all I'm asking. You know how to reach me."
"I'll be in touch," the man promised and watched as Rhys drove away. "They don't make cars like that anymore," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and going back inside to make a few calls to some prospective buyers.
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